The ball was in full swing by the time Robert arrived. He was very glad indeed to see Lord Millerton in attendance, even though he knew that the man’s shoulder was still very stiff and sore. Lord Watt and Lord Monteforte were not present this evening, with Lord Watt remaining at home with his wife and Lord Monteforte at another social occasion. Lord Haddington was present here somewhere, however, as were one or two others.
Robert felt a little more relieved in believing that, from what he had discussed with Miss Hemmingway, there was now a chance that she might find something of note. What the emblem meant and why it was of importance, he still had very little idea, but if he could prove that Lord Hamilton had some connection to it, then that would be a good first step. He would have to then challenge Lord Hamilton in some way, or seek for some more evidence that would link him to what had happened at Lord Watt’s home.
There was a good deal of care to be taken on his part still, and Robert had to admit that he was still rather afraid that he might make a mistake or act in a foolish way that would endanger those around him, as he had done before. Even now, he could still see the pale face of Lord M
illerton as he lay in the carriage, and still the guilt was binding tightly around his heart.
“Ah, Lord Franks!”
He turned slightly, took in who was standing there and took a small step backwards.
“You do not need to run from me,” the lady said, her eyes reminding him so very much of her daughter’s. “I am not here to beg you to return to her.”
Robert swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as the shock began to disperse. “Good evening, Lady Penfield,” he said, his throat rasping just a little with the surprise of seeing her. “I did not expect you to be in London.”
She gave him a small smile, her expression one of regret. “Nor did I,” she answered, quietly. “But given how trying these last few months have been, my husband thought it best that we spend some time in London, amongst friends.”
The urge to ask how her daughter was grew steadily, knowing that it was not only polite to ask but also because there was a part of him that was truly concerned for her. “And Miss Swift?” he asked, glad that there was no catch in his voice. “How does she fare?”
Lady Penfield smiled gently, her eyes appearing to be a little damp. “My daughter is Lady Brunfield now, Lord Franks,” she told him, quietly. “She is married and settled, for which I am grateful for. I am….” She trailed off, taking in a breath that perhaps spoke of the great swell of emotion that had settled in her chest. “I am sorry.”
His own heart ached furiously but he could only smile at Lady Penfield. “There is nothing for you to apologize for, Lady Penfield, truly,” he said, speaking as honestly as he could. “I was fond of your daughter and whilst I do not truly understand the reasons for the ending of our betrothal, I must continue to presume that they were for both Miss Swift’s best and for my own. I am glad that she is settled and please do pass on my congratulations to her when you are next in her company.”
Lady Penfield’s smile slipped. “She is gone to the continent with her husband, so it will be some time before I see her again,” she answered, her voice wobbling just a little. “But I shall be sure to write to her, Lord Franks and please do accept my thanks for your understanding and your kindness.”
Robert bowed and smiled, only for Lady Penfield to drop her head and step away, clearly a little distressed. Robert frowned, turning to walk in the opposite direction of the lady, wondering why she appeared so upset. After all, she had been the one to come and speak to him, which left him feeling all the more confused. It was not, he realized, difficult for him to think of Miss Swift, even though he had been very confused and upset when it had come to the strange end of their betrothal. Yes, he had been fond of her but there had not been any great love there, no great affection that tore at his heart.
His head lifted and, almost without the awareness that he was doing it, his eyes landed on Miss Hemmingway. She was dancing with another gentleman, a gentleman he did not know, and laughing at something the gentleman had said. Her lips were pulled into a wide smile, her eyes bright and a rosy warmth in her cheeks. The gown she wore was emerald green and there were leaves and flowers swirling through her curls. His breath caught and he found he could not look away, seeing her in a new light and finding himself quite overcome by her.
It was a very odd sensation, he realized, trying to think practically whilst his gaze remained tied to her. He had just been thinking of Miss Swift, whom he had found himself engaged to after an agreement with her father but had not really felt a deep love for. Now he found himself watching a young lady whom he did not know very well at all but suddenly felt a strange burst of emotion that seemed to wrap around his heart and refused to let him go.
She looked at him then, whether by some instinct that someone was watching her or simply by chance, he did not know. Robert swallowed hard and tried to look away, but found his will was weaker than he had expected. Closing his eyes, he turned his head and felt heat run from his head to his toes, igniting something within him that felt more like shame than anything else.
“My lord?”
He looked to his left to see a footman nearing him, holding a tray with a note set down upon it.
“You have a message, my lord,” the footman said, bowing his head. “It came with a note of urgency.”
Frowning, Robert picked it up and unfolded it, looking all about him before deciding to read it in a quieter corner of the room. The footman disappeared almost at once, melting back into the crowd, and Robert turned on his heel to make his way towards the corner of the room.
He turned the note over, noting the wax seal was entirely blank. Breaking it, he opened the note and let his gaze run down over it, seeing the few letters that were written there and feeling a cold hand grasp his heart.
‘Lord Caravel thrown from his horse,’ the note began. ‘Lady Watt is caring for him. Doctor is to be called. Be on your guard.’
Closing his eyes tightly, Robert squeezed the note hard, hearing it crumple and giving way to his anger. This emblem, he was sure, would lead him to answers, but it felt, at present, as though he was stuck hard to the floor, unable to find even a glimmer of light. Why had Lord Caravel been thrown from his horse? He was sure that it was not merely a coincidence, not merely an accident. There had to be something more, something dark and unseemly. This was connected to what he was investigating, he was sure of it, especially given that Lord Caravel had been looking into the emblem also. Whilst Robert knew that, as yet, Lord Caravel had found nothing, that did not mean that, since he had last seen him, Lord Caravel had not found something of note. Mayhap someone had discovered that he knew the truth, knew something of importance, and had attempted to bring him to an untimely end.
He had to pray that it would not be so.
“Lord Franks? You appear to be somewhat distressed.”
Miss Hemmingway was by his side, her eyes fixed on his as he turned to look at her. Her expression was one of concern, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.
He recoiled.
“Where is your brother?”
Miss Hemmingway took a small step back, her heightened color betraying her embarrassment. “He is present this evening,” she said, looking about her as though, in some way, she might be able to find him amongst the crowd. “Do you wish to speak to him?” Her eyes returned to his. “I did not manage to find his handkerchief.”